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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050620">I wrote love letters (just not for you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillifall/pseuds/stillifall'>stillifall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Getting Together, Love Letters, Love Poems, M/M, but like in a sad way, jealous!buck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillifall/pseuds/stillifall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s the problem, she likes how you write and I’m not a poet-”</p>
<p>Buck closed his eyes for a second. He didn’t deserve this, watching the man he loves fall in love with someone else because of his help. He shouldn’t be pairing them together. He should tell Eddie off and tell him to go write it himself. He should-</p>
<p>“Fine. Go get some paper.” </p>
<p>OR In which Eddie gets Buck to help him write letters for Anna but Anna is way smarter than that, she is a teacher after all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>433</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I wrote love letters (just not for you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This idea came from watching 'The half of it' it was pretty good. Anyway, join me in tumblr @911inspo <br/>Once again, leave a review if you like it and take care!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Buck walked in, he didn’t expect Eddie to have a pencil in hand, staring at a piece of paper like he was going to destroy it any second now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay there man?” Buck asked, sitting next to him and glancing at the paper. It was blank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just- I met someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. That shouldn't  have hurt as much as it did, but it did. Buck felt like he was running out of air, like someone had punched him in the gut and there was no way he could stand up. He swallowed, trying to stop himself because he really, really should have seen this coming. Buck and Eddie were close friends. But they were friends. And it was obvious that at one point, that wasn't going to be enough of a relationship for Eddie. He would want more, an actual partner he could hug and kiss and be intimate with. A partner that wasn’t Buck. Buck tried to remind himself it was only a matter of time-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that time was now and Buck wasn’t prepared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You met someone?” Eddie looked up, his face holding a defeated look. It made Buck want to help him regardless of his own pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Buck offered. Eddie let out a groan and buried his head on his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She is Christopher’s teacher and I lashed out last time. I apologized but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christopher’s teacher?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anna.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anna,” Buck repeated. The name stung a little, and yet- Anna was probably a good lady, a teacher who loved kids, who was patient and pretty and- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(Anna wasn’t him though. That was the problem).</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t explain why you have a piece of paper though.” Eddie only put the pencil down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to be romantic. Write her a letter, I don’t know, is that- Is that still romantic?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And fuck, yeah it was romantic. Buck could only wish that someone wrote him love letters. He looked at the piece of paper longingly. God Anna was really lucky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know what to write?” Eddie hummed in response. Buck met his gaze and smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Write something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I didn’t know falling in love would be as easy as looking at you.’”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie widened his eyes, making Buck clear his throat and turn away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or you know, something like that,” Buck muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, yeah that’s good.” Eddie grabbed the pencil and began to write it and Buck only watched, silently hoping that the ache in his chest would go away.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Buck was at the station scrolling through instagram, occasionally grabbing from the chip bowl that he had placed on his lap. He stopped when he felt someone stop right in front of him. He looked up, locking his phone. Eddie was in front of him, tapping his foot against the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Anna loved the letter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. The love letter. He wasn’t surprised. He was sure that Eddie could have written anything and he would have still wooed her... after all he had the looks. Buck swallowed, about to go back to watching videos when Eddie plopped right next to him on the couch. Buck braced himself for Eddie telling him more about Anna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think she wants me to write another one,” Buck frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think she really liked this one but she’s not sure we should date so if I write her another then maybe-” Buck only sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So write it then,” he cut him off. He knew he came out frustrated, but Eddie must have missed the shift in his tone because he kept talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the problem, she likes how you write and I’m not a poet-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not rocket science,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not good at emotions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck closed his eyes for a second. He didn’t deserve this, watching the man he loves fall in love with someone else because of his help. He shouldn’t be pairing them together. He should tell Eddie off and tell him to go write it himself. He should-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. Go get some paper.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the way Eddie smiled at him, well, it made him want to write a million letters only to keep that smile on his face. When Eddie brought him back a couple pieces of paper and some pens, Buck put on a fake smile and got to work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘And I would collect all the stars in the world if it meant I would see you smile one more time’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck finished writing, not wanting to read over the letter in fear of backing down, realizing it was too much. Eddie folded the piece of paper nicely and put it on his wallet. Buck only gripped the pen he was holding tightly, his eyes avoiding Eddie. He cleared his throat, mumbling an excuse to get away. He saw Eddie’s gaze follow him as he walked downstairs. Once Buck reached the locker rooms, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was impossible, he thought, to feel this much pain over someone you never had. But the ache in his chest was <em>there</em>, and it was real, coiling itself up into his heart and not letting go.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Buck had agreed to write one letter. A simple love note that, if successful, would make Eddie’s crush go out with him. In any other scenario, this would have been hilarious. It would have made for a fantastic story, except that right now Buck felt like the world was laughing at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One letter became two which then became three. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna, as he found out by another note, was pretty dang smart. She wrote Eddie back, and really, had it been anyone else, Buck would have found it romantic. So old-fashioned. Just why did it have to be Eddie?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her response was written in cursive, in a ripped piece of notebook paper that she probably had tons of, on accounts that she was a teacher. Her handwriting was beautiful, and the way she signed it,  <em>‘love, Anna</em>’ was- pretty, delicate, elegant. Buck could see it. He could see why someone would fall for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In her letter she had included some smart remarks about a book, she had written a little bit about Christopher, and then she mentioned how much she was enjoying reading the letters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No man has taken the time to know my thoughts before asking me out. It's rare to find these days, though you continue to surprise Edmundo.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had used Edmundo, and it made Buck scowl. <em>Edmundo.</em> Eddie went by Eddie, not Edmundo. A name could mean so much, and yet Anna was there writing it like it belonged to her. It made Buck want to write ‘Eddie’ a million times, just to prove- (prove what? That Eddie was his? He wasn’t.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what should I write back? Should I ask her out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Buck responded faster than he should’ve, he recovered, adding, “she just said that she likes that you are taking your time to know her. So just built on that.” Eddie rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want to ask her out, not become her penpal.” Buck scoffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If anything, I’m the penpal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. So we write her back?” Buck nodded, and even though every inch of him was telling him not to, he grabbed a pen and napkin that was nearby and began to write.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Anna, I love listening to what you have to say, your words never fail to captivate me’ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Eddie stared at him as he wrote, making Buck nervously bounce his leg. Buck suddenly felt as if there was a lamp pointing at him, making him sweat and uncomfortable and nervous. Eddie was giving him a look, one that Buck couldn’t identify. He didn’t look mad, but he didn’t have the look of satisfaction he always held after they wrote a letter. Finally, Eddie broke the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Buck only raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you write that so easily? It’s like- like you know her and you love her,” Eddie responded, his voice becoming soft and softer, “do you love anyone?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck didn’t even want to argue his logic. He had never met this Anna before, and besides the letters she had written that Eddie had shown him, he didn’t know anything about her. But Eddie was right about something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wrote easily because he was in love. And he knew him. He knew Eddie. He knew his jokes, his mannerisms. He knew the way he walked, the way he drove. The way he frowned and the way he cried. He knew him so he loved him. Love letters were just that, words grouped together that spelled ‘I love you’ in a million ways. His cheeks reddened, and without skipping a beat, Buck stood up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t- I don’t love her. Or anyone,” he stuttered. To his luck, Bobby arrived and like a stray dog, Buck rushed to his side. He didn’t know that Eddie kept looking at him with a curious look on his face. He didn’t know that Eddie looked at the letter and read it over, as if trying to find a clue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know that Eddie never gave that letter to Anna, but rather kept it neatly folded in the back pocket of his jeans.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Buck was on his stomach, a piece of paper in front of him. They were crayons all over the floor, and right across from him Christopher was playing with a pencil. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, a poem?” Christopher nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, she wants a short poem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Due tomorrow?” Christopher only nodded. Buck then grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then we better get to work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spent the next two hours brainstorming, writing down words that seemed to inspire them. Once in a while, Buck would write his own little poem, read it to Christopher, and see if the boy picked up anything for him to write. By the time Eddie came back home with a take out pizza on his hands, he found Buck with multiple pieces of papers, crayon all over them as he listened to Christopher recite his own poem. He left the pizza on the table, then walked back to watch them from the door frame of his room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, that was really good. I think you are a natural superman,” Buck complimented as soon as Christopher finished reading. The boy only giggled in response, beginning to grab his materials and shoving them back in his backpack for the next school day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did the poem go?” Eddie asked, startling them both. Christopher broke into a smile, standing up and meeting him halfway for a tight hug. Buck stood up, a fond smile. He continued to pick up the crayons and pencils, collecting his stack of papers and carefully hiding them under the jacket that rested on Christopher’s bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess it's time to eat superman,” Buck picked Christopher up and carried him on his back, the boy giggling as he was carried to the kitchen, where the smell of pizza was already surrounding them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stayed behind, making sure that Christopher had put everything on his backpack when he noticed Buck’s jacket. There were pieces of paper under them, and with a million ‘don’t do it’ thoughts rushing to his head, he grabbed them, his eyes quickly scanning over the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were familiar. The words washing over him with warm recognition. By now he knew Buck’s writing, and this, this was it. Buck’s thoughts spilled over multiple pages in red, blue, pink crayon. It seemed fitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The poems were short, Eddie knew he was probably showing Christopher how it worked, but there was intimacy to them. There was one about spring, one about summer. One about his job, and one about family. There was one about a coffee shop that he liked, and there was one about his uniform. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there was one about him, folded in half, crayon smaller and more careful, almost as if the words would be scared away at any bold stroke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was about him, and suddenly, all the love letters made sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Buck was a good writer, but even he couldn’t write about love without knowing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck was in love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck was in love with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Diaz, your pizza is getting cold!” He jumped at the mention of his name, his  fingers gripping the pieces of paper like they were a lifeline. (In a way there were, they were as close as Buck would ever allow him, they were an imitation of Buck and he wanted all of it).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming!” He put the papers back under the jacket and closed Christopher’s door as he left.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Today Buck had to go pick Christopher up. Eddie had a shift and Buck didn’t hesitate to offer to pick up the boy. Eddie gave him a soft look before agreeing and telling them that he’ll see them both home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(And </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt good. And weird. Because Eddie never looked at him like that, and never said those words in that way. Buck considered that maybe he was starting to lose his mind.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked towards the courtyard, trying to spot Christopher among all the children that were playing outside. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, one of them hovering over his phone, wanting to take a picture of the boy and send it to Eddie. A smile broke when he saw Christopher playing with one of his friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck?” He turned towards the voice. There was a woman there, wearing a pretty dress, her hair down. She had smears of paint and glue in her arms, and Buck suddenly felt his heart race. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m Anna.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anna.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pang of pain he felt came and fled like lightning. He collected himself quickly, flashing her a grin and holding out his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleasure to meet you, I heard great things about you from Eddie.” Anna only nodded, her eyes narrowing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could say the same. Except <em>both</em> Diaz boys like to praise you,” Buck widened his eyes at the compliment. It didn’t feel like it, it felt like she knew something. He chuckled nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In fact, I got to say, you are a great writer.” Buck felt his blood run cold. He turned towards her, Anna was crossing her arms, an amused smile on her face. Her eyes were on Christopher, yet he knew that she was watching his reactions. Buck only looked away sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christopher’s homework. He told me you helped him, not Edmundo,” she replied, like it was really that easy to figure out. Buck only nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. He really liked you and I helped him and it was supposed to be one letter, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Anna cut off his ramble with a hand motion, she looked at him and gave him a kind smile. It made a calm wave wash over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I’m not hurt,” she offered, then with a shrug, “just a little disappointed.” Buck tilted his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna raised her eyebrows and laughed. Then when she realized that Buck wasn’t laughing with her, she opened her mouth and closed it. A pondering look crossed her face, and suddenly Buck felt like a little boy about to be told a universal truth. Anna let out a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because clearly you are already in love with him,” before Buck could respond, she added, “there’s just some things you can’t pretend on paper.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Buck arrived at Eddie's house, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Christopher was talking the whole ride over, and this time Buck couldn’t answer more than two words at a time, his mind stumbling over all the possibilities on how to face Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to tell him. He ruined his chances with Anna because he was in love with him. Eddie would say he made it all about him, but it wasn’t his intention for Anna to read him so easily. It wasn’t his fault <em>(right?)</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He helped Christopher out of his Jeep and opened the door, the boy walking to his room and telling him all about the new thing he was going to build with his Legos. Usually Buck would follow. (He was building a Lego firehouse. It was his secret project.) But today, he said he needed to do something from work. Christopher only let out an ‘oh okay!’  and let him be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went to the couch and sat down. He took out his phone, opening the notes app and trying to type what he would say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘So I met anna, she’s really nice but she doesn’t want to go out with you anymore?’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘So anna’s really cool and it's funny because she said i'm in love with you so she doesn’t want to-’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m in love with you and Anna called me out on it.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m in love with you, please don’t go out with her’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m in love with you. Go out with me’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m in love with -’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck!” He raised his head, phone falling from his hands, a deer in the headlights looking on his face. Eddie was standing there, the door closing behind him. His hair was messy, a couple of scratches on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your shift isn’t over for another hour,” Buck choked out in disbelief. Why did Eddie have to come early? He needed more time to plan this out. He picked up his phone, deleting the note and standing up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I just-” Eddie walked towards him, “I needed to see you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he heard those words, Buck began to scan him for any signs of bad news. Anna and poems and writing forgotten. He had small scratches on his face, but nothing big, nothing to indicate a big call at work. His eyes didn’t hold sadness, or pain. He wasn’t angry, his hands were open, not clenched. It made Buck confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Eddie shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, nothing’s wrong. I need to talk with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew. Buck knew this was about Anna. She probably texted him and now Eddie was going to confront him about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I read your poems.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those were for Anna?” Eddie glared at him, making Buck shut his mouth and listen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean the ones you wrote with Christopher. The ones you hid under your jacket. The one you wrote about me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heartbeat was nothing but a sign that he was still alive. That this was real. Buck wanted to disappear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wrote you one back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that’s not what Buck expected to hear. Not even close. And yet, Eddie stepped closer, his face mere inches away. He grabbed one of his hands and brought it to his chest, feeling his heart beat through his LAFD shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck widened his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looked at him like he was sure this was it. As if he was the poem. Buck was grabbing the words out of thin air and clutching them close to his heart, fearing he might lose them. He wouldn’t. Eddie was really here, because he was worth a love letter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>“so I love you because I know no other way,”</em> he ended, his voice just above a whisper. Buck let out a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t write that.” Eddie only rolled his eyes before putting one of his hands on Buck’s cheeks, his thumbs caressing his skin. He leaned towards the touch in instinct.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Buck smiled, leaning towards him, his lips barely brushing against Eddie’s. It sent a shiver down his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Eddie kissed him right after, hands rushing towards his waist, his hair, his cheeks, and his lips tasted as good as Buck once wrote about, then that was for him to know and for Eddie to read about later. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you guys liked it! That poem at the end was by Pablo Neruda.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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